


Our Captain, Our Brother

by WishfulDream



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Kidnapping, M/M, Mitchell Is A Dick, Rape/Non-con Elements, T'hy'la, bondmates, protective crew
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2014-12-04
Packaged: 2018-02-28 05:26:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2720384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WishfulDream/pseuds/WishfulDream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim Kirk's been stolen by a monster and his family will do whatever it takes to get him back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SOABA](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SOABA/gifts).



Mitchell opened the door to his apartment with a sigh, dropping his gear immediately inside the door and stretching. It had been a long, uneventful turn on guard at the museum and tomorrow was Mitchell's day off. Most would crash and get plenty of rest, but he had no intention of sleeping just yet.  
  
He didn't even glance at his bed, going straight to his bathroom and stripping down for a shower. The water was nice and hot, creating lots of steam, and he felt relaxed when he was done. He collected a towel, wrapping it around his waist, and then raided his precious supply of Romulan Ale.  
  
He poured himself two fingers of the liquor in a small glass, grabbed a couple ration bars and a canister of water, and went to the inner room door. Unlike most of the doors to inner rooms, it had a high-security lock that required finger and retina scans in addition to a ten-digit code and voice authorization. Mitchell complied with all four and smiled broadly as he stepped inside the dimly lit room.  
  
“Honey, I'm home- how was your day?”  
  
The room's occupant, a beautiful blonde man in an antique straitjacket and worn pants, glared at him with his dazzling sapphire blue eyes without answering. Not that he could have if he wanted to- the straitjacket was matched with a large rubber ball gag that would have reduced any response to meaningless noise, anyway.  
  
“What, you're not going to greet me?” Mitchell asked, affecting a hurt expression and tone. “You're a terrible wife, Jim.”  
  
Jim's only reply was an angry grunt. He struggled uselessly against the heavy canvas jacket and the thick chains securing it the wall that prevented him from moving more than a few centimeters in any direction. He didn't bother trying to kick, though- the shackles on his ankles weren't padded, and he'd learned the hard way that Mitchell would let him bleed when they cut him, then let the cuts get infected.  
  
“I brought you presents and everything,” Mitchell said, dangling the water canister in front of Jim's face and smirking as Jim immediately went still. “Good boy. I trust you won't try and bite me today?”  
  
Jim nodded grudgingly. Another lesson he'd learned was that if Mitchell couldn't ungag him without being bitten, he wouldn't be fed for a week.  
  
Mitchell knelt, unbuckling the gag and setting it aside. “What do you say, Jim?”  
  
“Welcome home, asshole,” Jim said. “Give me water.”  
  
“Come on, Jim- you know it's not that easy,” Mitchell scoffed, setting the canister down in plain view. “You have to earn your keep.”  
  
“I didn't ask to be kept in the first place,” Jim snapped. “Let me go and you won't have to worry about me.”  
  
“What would I do for fun then?” Mitchell asked, shaking his head. “No, I like having you here.” He reached up, running his hand through Jim's hair. “I like you being mine.”  
  
“I will never be yours,” Jim snapped.  
  
Mitchell laughed, “Still waiting for your precious Spock to come and save you? It’s been two months and he thinks that you’re dead. He’s stopped looking for you by now, him and the rest of your little family.”  
  
Jim gritted his teeth in anger. “Just rape me and get it over with,” he finally said, his gaze trailing back to the canister. He'd been without water since last night, and he was dying of thirst.  
  
“That's not how we ask for things, Jim,” Mitchell said, sitting back on his heels and watching the play of anger and humiliation across Jim's handsome young face. One of the reasons he kept Jim was because of his exquisite expressions. He couldn't hide how he felt if his life depended on it, and Mitchell savored his shame and helpless rage. “Ask right.”  
  
Jim swallowed, his face red, and glared hard at the floor, forcing the words out with audible difficulty. “Please... please f-fuck me.” And, after a long pause, “... Master.”  
  
Mitchell smiled, picking up the canister. Jim was a good fuck, and he had every intention of following through on that, but his real goal had been just to force Jim to ask for it. He unscrewed the top and let Jim drink half its contents, followed by one of the ration bars.  
  
“Now,” Mitchell said once the bar was gone, discarding his towel and moving Jim's pants out of the way before flipping him onto his stomach. “Just close your eyes and think of the fact that you will never see your precious Spock or the Enterprise ever again.”  
  
“He will find me and when he does, he will tear you apart,” Jim swore.  
  
“Promises, promises,” Mitchell taunted, pulling Jim’s legs apart.  
  
Without giving Jim any kind of preparation, Mitchell plunged into him, making his lovely little slave shriek unwillingly. The sex was cruel, as it always was. Mitchell was ruthless, a sadist, delighting in every single one of Jim’s screams.  
  
Mitchell pulled out and turned Jim over before thrusting back into him. Now he could watch Jim's face, the humiliation and shame and horror and pain flitting across his face in tandem. By the time Mitchell was sated, Jim was whimpering and spent, could barely move let alone protest.  
  
Mitchell sat back once more, stroking Jim's cheek. “Such a good boy,” he said. “See, that wasn't so bad.”  
  
“Fuck you,” Jim whispered, his voice hoarse.  
  
“You just did,” Mitchell said, laughing. He grabbed the canister and let Jim have the rest of his water and the second ration bar before re-gagging him. He collected his towel, kissed Jim's forehead in mock affection, then stood and stretched. “But if you really want to, I can always come back later.”  
  
“Nngh!” Jim snapped, shaking his head.  
  
“Maybe after my nap, pet,” Mitchell said. He wrapped the towel around his waist and left the small room, humming under his breath. Having Jim around to relieve his stress was certainly very useful. He made certain the door was closed and locked before dressing himself, just in case someone decided to drop by- it would do him no good if anyone ever found out that he was keeping Starfleet’s golden boy as his pet.  
  
Dressed, sated, and feeling a pleasant warmth from the alcohol, Mitchell stretched out on his bed and closed his eyes. He'd take a nap, then maybe give Jim a bath. Maybe even let him use the shower, if he was a good boy. Not with hot water of course, sluts like him didn’t deserve such a luxury. It would be a shame to let him out of that straitjacket, but Mitchell was sure he could come up with an equally uncomfortable and humiliating way to restrain him instead.  
  
Somewhere in the middle of his musings, Mitchell dropped into a light sleep with a smile; visions of his grudgingly obedient little 'bitch' followed him into his dreams, ensuring his nap was going to be very pleasant, indeed.  
  
*********************************  
  
As soon as Mitchell left the room, Jim gave into his raging emotions and began to cry. He knew it was a bad idea, a waste of the little water he had received, but he couldn’t help it. His very soul ached, and not from the rape.  
  
Jim had been separated from his bondmate for far too long and it was killing him. The mental block that kept Spock from touching his mind, that created the black hole where Spock’s cool, loving presence should be, grew more painful every day. Soon, Mitchell would be forced to deal with dead body, a fact that brought a little consolation to the chained captain. Mitchell would hate being outwitted by James Tiberius Kirk once again, even in so small a way.  
  
When that day came, Jim would accept it gladly, but that day was not yet upon him and so Jim wept. Wept because Mitchell was right, it had been too long. Spock would have mourned him and taken command of the Enterprise on Starfleet Command’s orders by now. Jim was never going to see his husband again, was never going to see Bones, Scotty, Nyota, Chekov, or Sulu again.  
  
At least they were alive, alive and far away from this hellhole. For this reason alone Jim would keep fighting a hopeless battle, would refuse to let Mitchell see him break. In private he would cry as much as he needed, but in front of that monster he would remain as strong as possible.  
  
The only regret Jim had now was that he hadn’t spent his last day with Spock in happiness, that he hadn’t told his bondmate he loved him the terrible night he had been taken. They had spent that day fighting over something so ridiculous, and now Jim would never get the chance to apologize. He only hoped that Spock still knew, knew how much Jim loved him, no matter how awfully he had behaved that day.  
  
 _They had just returned to Earth after a long period of scouting missions and the Enterprise was scheduled for a refit, much to Scotty’s displeasure, he was adamantly certain that their girl was already perfect. They had spent the three days before being debriefed by the admiralty, because Komack, Kay, and Peterson were all bastards who refused to believe that such a young crew was actually capable of doing their jobs, despite the overwhelming evidence in the Enterprise Crew’s favor and the massive support they had from the Pike, Archer, and Barnet._  
  
 _The whole command crew had been planning on going out to dinner together at one of San Francisco’s nicest restaurants and then heading out to Vegas for a week, a nice ‘family vacation’ before splitting up to visit their respective homes for the month and a half it would take to finish work on the Enterprise. Spock and Jim were planning on visiting a bunch of Earth’s major cities, a tourist thing because Spock had never really explored the planet his mother was born on before._  
  
 _It was at the restaurant that things went wrong._  
  
 _To be fair, it had actually started a few minutes before they got to Van Helios and Admiral Komack was really the one to blame. He had made an extremely vulgar and inappropriate remark to Jim and Spock as they were leaving Starfleet Headquarters and Jim hadn’t reacted to it with grace. As a result, Spock chastised him for behaving like a child, sparking an intense argument that continued well into dinner._  
  
 _Eventually, Jim had stormed out of the restaurant in anger and right into the nearest bar. It was inside that Jim bumped into Gary Mitchell, an old friend turned enemy thanks to Jim breaking up with him. But Mitchell had been sympathetic that night, had bought Jim his favourite drink, and then everything had gotten hazy._  
  
 _Drugged as he was, Jim offered no resistance as Mitchell corralled him out of the bar and into the back of Mitchell’s van. He hadn’t even protested when Mitchell began to truss him up like a turkey with thick ropes, pinning his arms behind him and securing his legs together at his ankles and knees._  
  
 _And then Mitchell had kissed him, and everything suddenly cleared. Mitchell's lips were too hot, almost burning against his own, definitely not his husband’s, and he felt the edges of a terrifying and dark hunger hovering over him. All he could feel was horror, and his instincts, finally kicking in, told him to fight back, to get Mitchell off him somehow. Jim began thrashing, briefly screaming until Mitchell shoved a ball gag past his teeth and locked it behind his head. His mind reached out for Spock’s in a panic and Spock’s reached back immediately, before being brutally cut off as Mitchell injected a class five telepathic inhibitor into his arm, a device that was extremely illegal on all Federation planets._  
  
 _A sweet-smelling rag was pressed over his face, covering his nose, and after a desperate few minutes of struggling, everything went black._  
  
 _When Jim woke, he was wearing a straightjacket, still gagged, and chained to a wall in what was obviously a cell. Mitchell had come in an hour later and explained that Jim was now his; that no one was ever going to find him._  
  
That first rape was hell, nothing at all like when he and Spock made love. Spock was bigger than Mitchell, was far stronger, and yet he had never hurt Jim, not even a little bit. Mitchell thrusting into him felt like someone was pounding a red hot poker into his body over and over again.  
  
There was never any relief, because the moment his body began to stop throbbing with pain, Mitchell came back and repeated the agonizing process.  
  
As the days and weeks passed, Jim kept fighting. He had survived the Kelvin, his mother, Frank, Tarsus, crazy Romulans, and a shitload of other things that would have brought a lesser man to his knees. He would survive this as well. But, as more and more time went by without the contact, both physically and mentally, of his T’hy’la, Jim began to realize that his time was growing short.  
  
Now, Jim knew, without Spock, he wouldn’t live to see his next birthday.


	2. Part Two

Life without James Kirk was unbearable, and Spock had suffered through two months of it already. His beloved, his T’hy’la, was gone, cut off from him completely and the only comfort that Spock had was that he knew Jim wasn’t dead.

 

He couldn’t sense him, no, and his mind was devoid of the warm, pulsing star that was Jim, but the bond between them wasn’t yet dead. It was weak, dying a little more each day, but still blessedly alive.

 

Starfleet had been frantically searching for Jim since day one, and that was nothing compared to the desperate measures his crew had taken to try and locate their precious captain. Nothing had turned up; it was as if Jim had just vanished from the universe inexplicably. Here one moment and gone the next.

 

Spock wasn’t ashamed to admit that he was terrified at the implications of that. Why, oh why had he let Jim out of his sight? Why had he picked that stupid fight? Regret was illogical, but oh did he regret. Spock was never going to forgive himself for what happened that god damned night.

 

Now, with the little knowledge they had, that James wouldn’t last much longer, Starfleet had approved of a final last-ditch plan to save their golden boy. A beyond covert mission that was their final chance of bringing Jim back to them.

 

Leonard met Spock outside the shuttle-craft that was to be their transport. He was wearing his dress uniform and had a grim, but determined, look on his face, a look that had been there for quite a while now, “We’re ready, Commander.”

 

Gone were the days of good-natured bickering and teasing insults, and Spock never realized just how much he would miss such things until they were taken away. Getting James back was the only way to restore Bones’ gruff but loving nature, Pavel’s insistence that everything was invented in Russia, Scotty’s somewhat unhealthy obsession with sandwiches and scotch, Nyota’s beautiful singing, and Sulu’s infatuation for anything growing.

 

Spock was not the only person who had become a total shell of his former self since Jim’s abduction. They had always known that they loved him, but it wasn’t until he was taken from them, that the Enterprise Command Crew finally understood just how much they needed their captain, their brother.

 

Spock nodded at McCoy sharply, “Then let’s get going.”

 

“Commander Spock,” Admiral Pike called out from ten feet away, making his way through a maze of people to reach the shuttle, “Good luck, to all of you. Bring him home.”

 

“We will,” Spock vowed, “Or die trying.”

 

“I’d prefer the first option,” Chris said wryly.

 

“I assure you that we will endeavor to do our best to ensure that outcome,” Spoke told him, “But you should prepare yourself for the second.”

 

“When you find the bastard responsible, make sure it looks like self-defense, Mr. Spock,” Pike ordered.

 

Spock inclined his head slightly before entering the shuttle, “Lieutenant Sulu, you are clear for takeoff.”

 

“Aye, aye, Commander,” Sulu responded, disengaging the parking clamps and steering the shuttle out of the bay.

 

The shuttle rose high into the sky, cleared the city and then began to pass over the water. It was then that everyone on the ground watched in horror as the shuttle carrying the Federation’s revered heroes suddenly and inexplicably blew apart in a massive fiery explosion.

 

*************************

 

It was all over the news, and Mitchell could hardly believe his luck. They were all dead. Every single one of the freaks that Jim loved so dearly was dead. One simple wiring malfunction and all of Mitchell’s concerns were over. With the Vulcan and the others gone, no one would still be looking for Jim.

 

No more would he have to constantly be looking over his shoulder or worry that some idiot would cotton on to what he had done. It was a miracle, a gift from God, and Mitchell was not about to waste it.

 

Mitchell grabbed his padd and sauntered over to Jim’s room, gleefully taking care of the security measures before walking inside with a wide grin.

 

**************************

 

Jim was suspicious the moment that Mitchell walked in, knowing full well that nothing that made the man so happy could possibly bode well for him. He grew even more concerned when Mitchell deigned to remove his gag, something he never did unless watering or feeding Jim.

 

“I have a surprise for you, my little bitch,” he sounded insane in his pleasure, far more than usual, “Something that you are never going to forget.”

 

Jim was silent, an awful sense of foreboding growing within him.

 

Mitchell raised his padd, clicked something on the screen, and then shoved it close to Jim’s face. It took only a few moments to take in what he was being shown and then a horrified shriek left him, “No!”

 

“Oh, yes, pet. They’re dead, your dear family is dead, killed in a tragic accident, and now, you are all alone and mine, forever.”

 

Mitchell’s mocking was drowned out by Jim’s heartbroken sobs, loud tearing noises intermixed with screams that were ripped from him repeatedly.

 

“No!” he shouted, “No, no, no!”

 

Drowned in grief, Jim was only barely aware that Mitchell was laughing ecstatically.

 

Mitchell shoved him to the ground, pulled down Jim’s pants and brutally entered him. So overwhelmed by a far more potent torment was Jim that, for the first time, the pain of the rape didn’t even register.

 

At some point, Mitchell climaxed inside of him and then dragged Jim into the bathroom, where he forced him under the shower’s icy spray, finally removing the straightjacket. He harshly scrubbed Jim clean, causing his sensitive skin to become red with irritation. He cuffed Jim facedown to his own bed and then fucked him for a second time.

 

Without warning, a thick whip cracked across Jim’s back, making him yelp. Another stroke hit his ass, and another his shoulders. On and on the strokes came, until Jim could feel blood running hot down his backside. And still, it was nothing compared to the emotional hell he was now dealing with.

 

When Mitchell was done abusing his body for the night, he locked Jim inside a cage, his wrists cuffed to the top.

 

“Kill me,” Jim begged as Mitchell turned to grab the ball gag, “Please, God, just kill me.”

 

Mitchell smirked at him, “I don’t think so, pet, I still have so many fun things planned to do with you.”

 

Jim let loose another broken sob as Mitchell locked the ball gag back into place. He then locked the cage and moved away, flipping off the lights and encasing him in a choking dark.

 

His friends, his family, the man he loved, the only reasons Jim had for continuing on. They were gone. There was nothing left for him in this world anymore and for the first time since he was very, very young, Jim prayed.

 

He prayed for death to find him.

**Author's Note:**

> I love comments but please do not succumb to any urge you may have to Beta my work. I will not appreciate it. Seriously. That being said, I welcome any CONSTRUCTIVE criticism you may have that does not relate to grammar or typos and any and all questions that aren't intended to spoil the plot.
> 
> This is dedicated to my best friend who is forcing me to post this. :)


End file.
